She called me from the storage unit

I always knew there was more to it

More, more, more

A bit of something from every store

Overflowing, always going

Accumulating stuff

Possessions pile high but are never enough

Does the clutter make us think we’ll never go under?

Growing up, I saw nor’easters flood the basement

She cried over the cardboard boxes

Said there was no replacement

To me it was always a mystery

Why someone would cling to anything

I drove to the storage unit to meet her

But I didn’t even make it to the front door greeter

While turning left, a tractor trailer met my SUV

I died with an i-phone in my hand

Ironically too with a plank in my eye

Above the noise, though, outside that storage unit

I heard my mother cry

A short time later the road crew came in

They swept the wreckage away

Broken glass and steel like gems

My mom went back to the scene

Unpacked a cardboard box containing a lot of my things

And she wept

Storage units, phones, vehicles are all inept

The nor’easter always finds us

Then she went to the beach

Empty handed

Considered the tide that binds us